


Five Minutes That Might Change Your Life

by Rabbit



Category: Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:33:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabbit/pseuds/Rabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place in the universe of Martin Emuté, from Grantaire's viewpoint. Spoilers only if you don't know the premise of Fight Club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Minutes That Might Change Your Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Martin Emuté](https://archiveofourown.org/works/757475) by [Rabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabbit/pseuds/Rabbit). 



I need a cigarette in the worst way, and I need something to change. Out from under me would be all right.

There is a little bit of tobacco in my pocket. There is Martin, sitting silently in the opposite corner from me tonight. /He's/ changed. So why can't I?

You know, when I met him, when he first came into the Musain, I'd thought he was a cogne? He looks too much at people. Everyone who comes into a bar is wrapped up in himself and his liquor-- that is to say, what goes into his mouth and what comes out of it.

Martin is all eyes and ears.

Or maybe not. He answers something that someone is saying, that I missed. About Napoleon, I suppose. He says that empire building is a pretentious waste of energy. Like building babel.

He says that order, castles, the hotel de ville, the opera comique, the concierge, toulon-- all of these are the face paint given by men to inadequacy.

He says that the bourgeois, the aristocracy, they're still here, hiding from the fact that they still need you and me to build them chamberpots and cook their meals. He says we shouldn't be hiding from this. It isn't menial. It's the only life there is. We shouldn't be worried about splendor, or opulence, or how many inches of lace to put on your cuffs.

He says that it's not the Aristocracy's fault.

He says that they're just afraid. They're in prison.

They need to be freed.

To know that they are incomplete, just like everyone else.

To know that they will never be complete, and neither will you or me.

Jail isn't jail. It's a way to get back to Zero.

That is what Martin says, and the lines around his face and the grey in his hair seem to fade, and I swear to god, over his severe black, woolen coat, the man glows.

His eye pins mine with a dart of ice, and then he sits down, and asks me for some tobacco and a paper.

Sure, I say.

There is awe, and smoking, and hushed tones.

Something's happened to Martin. Like I said-- he's changed.

I can't wait until tomorrow night.


End file.
